Before his time - Later than you think
by DominaNocte
Summary: Steve Rogers wakes up in the arctic before his time. Alone in a crashed plane he must make his way to safety, but what dangers awaits him in the harsh climate of ice and snow.
1. Chapter 1

Before his time – Later than you think.

Chapter 1

He was cold when he woke, cold enough to shiver even with the abnormal body temperature he now had. Opening his eyes was a small battle, his eyelids feeling as if they were sealed shut somehow. Taking stock of himself, he couldn't find anything truly wrong.

Well. He still had a few cracks in the ribs and a flurry of bruises all over, but nothing outright broken. Nothing that would really hinder him.

Cracking his eyes open he looked around.

His breath puffed in the air every time he breathed out so Steve quickly began breathing through his nose instead of through his mouth. It would keep him warmer. The ship he was in was wrecked. Nothing was in order and most things were broken.

The hull seemed to have held for the most part however, something Steve was thankful as he heaved himself to his feet. The shield, star still painted on went on his arm without trouble, though one of the straps was in bad condition. Well… both of the straps were but one was halfway to coming loose, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Looking around again Steve noted the ice coating everything. Everything that wasn't stuck to something had been overthrown, cargo in disarray. Looking over the instrument panel Steve's heart leapt into his throat as he remembered the compass he had placed there.

'Peggy.' His thoughts flashed to the memory of talking to her. To looking at her picture and listening to her voice as she told him not to be late, the tremor in her voice she couldn't suppress. He was glad though. Steve had held on to the voice, it had carried over a little of her strength and he had gotten the courage to do what had to be done.

Walking forward, careful not to slip on the ice coating the floor, Steve let out small sound of relief when he could steady himself against the chair in the front. His legs really didn't seem to like it when he walked. 'They'll have to deal. I'm not sitting down again.' He though. Knowing he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon if he sat.

Brushing the snow off the control table in front of him Steve carefully began looking. In the end he found the small compass on the floor, under an inch of ice. Thankfully he'd been able to smash up the ice with his shield and carefully extract the compass. Peggy's picture had taken a turn for the worse, the paper not able to withstand the elements the ship had managed to fight.

The small portrait was still recognizable as Peggy though, which was good. Steve didn't know how long he'd been out for but maybe he could still make it back in time for that date. Damn it. The war. How many people had died? Had the camp been over run? 'Bucky…' Steve shook his head and turned his thoughts to the other Howlers instead.

He had to get back.

Looking around Steve began taking an actual inventory of what he had. The ship hadn't been the most stocked to begin with and the ice covering everything wouldn't help. Stretching his memory he recalled some kind of crates stuffed into the back of the plane. That would be a good place to start looking for something useful.

So walking over to the door in the back it was, unfortunately the plane had crashed nose down. Which meant that while it had helped Steve get to the front of the ship it worked against him now.

Second problem was getting the door open. It opened into the room so there was no use trying to tackle it open. Braising a foot on the wall Steve grabbed the door handle with both hands and pulled.

"Fuck. Fucking God-damned piece of scrap, OPEN!" With the last heave the door moved for him, giving up a pitiful sounding whine as it did.

"Yeah." Steve gasped for breath and the cold air stung his lungs. "There we go." Ignoring how the air current made him shiver in the suit Steve pressed on.

He found a knife, stuck in the back of the Hydra goon he had killed on deck. A handful emergency rations, a gun. A few scraps of fabric. The rope frayed under his hands as he tried lifting it from where it was hooked on the wall. The small chain hanging from the roof he yanked loose and wrapped up tight.

The fabric went around his hands and one of the larger around his face. The difference it made was negligible at first but it would help against the wind. The knife went into an improvised sheath he made out of reluctantly donated leather curtesy of previous named dead Hydra Goon. Yes, Steve gave him capital letters now, seeing as he'd been helpful.

Then again it wasn't as if the man did it on purpose, or was really aware he'd provided it… 'Focus.' Steve chastised himself, galley humor wouldn't be getting him anywhere.

So. Fabric: One piece wrapped around his face, one around each hand. A fourth made a small pouch and was filled with the rations and the fabric that was left over. One last piece went to securing the thing to his belt. The shield was on his arm. Compass in his pocket. Chain around his back. Gun in his belt.

He'd have to travel south. Look for somewhere with people. Grab a place on a boat or plane and get back to the front.

Taking stock again Steve ate as much as he dared from the rations. Forced himself to heat a handful of snow, sure it was damn cold, but better than dehydration. Hopefully his metabolism was enough to keep up even in this climate. Feeling bad about it Steve decided to liberate the Hydra Goon from his uniform. The leather would help against the wind and snow.

Looking around again Steve nodded. His legs felt better and there would be no use waiting around here. Carefully Steve checked the compass taking a moment to just look at Peggy's picture and imagine her voice telling him 'You're late' again. He smiled. Then he checked which way south was, climbed out of the wrecked ship and began walking.


	2. Chapter 2

Before his time – later than you think

C2

Last time:

 _Looking around again Steve nodded. His legs felt better and there would be no use waiting around here. Carefully Steve checked the compass taking a moment to just look at Peggy's picture and imagine her voice telling him 'You're late' again. He smiled. Then he checked which way south was, climbed out of the wrecked ship and began walking._

It is cold. That's the first impression Steve gets when he steps outside of the planes hull. Cold like it had been that time in London, the winter of 1943-44, the cold had gone into the bone, stinging the skin and taking lives during night. Suckling the heat right out of your body and moving into your marrow.

Here and now it was much the same, only worse. The wind was full of ice and ripped along his skin when it whistled past him. The snow was heavy on the ground, clinging to his legs and weighting him down at the same time as it stole his warmth. The rations he'd had was gone. Steve had eaten them all during the first day, to hungry to stop himself. The only water on hand was the snow, making his insides feel cold as well.

He wouldn't stop thought. He and the Commandos hadn't stopped during the winter in London, so he had no excuse to stop now. One foot before the other. Step by step, occasionally opening the compass to make sure he was still walking in the right direction.

Memories played in his mind as he walked. Bucky patching him up after a fight. The Commandos laughing during downtime. Quiet mornings with the USO girls. Summer, making a ruckus with Bucky. His mother smiling at him and singing. Peggy laughing. Bucky telling jokes.

Hour passed and Steve didn't slow down. Distance seemed relative now, and time began to matter less. The good memories were nice and distracted him from the cold. The sky was magnificent, more start than he had ever seen and bands of green flecked with purple moving across them. The moon was as pale as the snow, only a small shard of its full form. The change in its position was the only help in keeping track of time.

Finally sun rise came, and Steve shivered as the first lukewarm rays of light hit him. Taking a moment to slow down Steve took in the landscape as the sun made it possible to see more of his surroundings.

There wasn't anything in sight that would help him. Only snow, ice and more snow. Setting his jaw, stubborn enough to toughen it out, Steve kept walking.

It hurt to keep his fingers moving around, but it helped stave of the cold a bit. Hours more passed, now with the sun shining. It wasn't really a blessing though. It barely changed how cold it was and the light was almost blinding when reflected from the ground.

Later Steve would think there must have bens some kind of sound to alert him, but at the moment he only reacted. Throwing himself to the side Steve rolled in the snow, ice crystals biting his skin. The same moment a white blur passed where he had stood just moments before.

The creature roared at him, 'it looks like a bear, an albino?' he thought and then it was rushing for him once more. Rolling to the side again Steve palmed the knife, the thing ridiculously small compared to the grit of the thing trying to kill him.

Keeping out of the bears range was hard, the animal was faster than he had thought possible and the glancing hits from its paws drew blood and made him stagger.

His shield didn't do as much as Steve would have liked it to, for while it could take the blows Steve was still swiped to the side or pushed out of balance when the animal hit him. The snow slipping around, refusing to give him any kind of decent footrest made things difficult as well.

Taking a chance Steve feinted to the left as it attacked again, then as it rushed passed him he swung himself on top of its back. Clinging to it as well as he could Steve brought up his knife to slice the creatures neck. It roared, bouncing and squirmed under him. It tried twisting its neck to bite at him, tried to swipe at his legs and arms, but Steve was stubborn enough to hold on.

Then it tried rolling around in the snow.

Shock from the cold hitting him along with the weight of the bear had Steve losing his grip on the knife. He was strong enough to take the weight, but the bear noticed his struggle to hold on when it rolled. What was worse, realized the opening, it repeated the action.

Now struggling not only to hold on, bit against the weight repeatedly being pressed down on top of him as well as the biting cold of snow against his skin where it snuck into his uniform Steve grew desperate. One arm curled around the things neck, the other grabbing the fur on the side of its head.

Pulling in opposite directions, his left holding steady and pushing down, while his other pulled the head up to the right. Putting as much force as he could behind the move, there was a sickening crack and then the bear fell limp.

Arms aching from the force the move had required Steve pushed it off of himself, laying in the snow trying to catch his breath. Finally getting up Steve looked around for his knife, lucky enough to find it not too far away.

He sent a silent prayer, had it been snowing he doubted he'd have found it. Reaching into his pocket Steve felt his slightly elevated spirit crash. His fingers shaking, Steve brought his compass out, the metal shell cracked. Opening it Steve just looked at it before he closed his eyes.

It was broken.

Then he forced himself to open his eyes and stood again. He could still see where he had come from, so he knew roughly the direction he was supposed to go. Carefully pocketing the broken compass Steve looked around. Checked he hadn't lost anything else and began walking again.

The sun had set and risen again twice by the time Steve next had something happen. In the distance he could first only see it as something slightly darker. A shape in the snow. Then as he gradually came closer he began picking out individual shapes. 'Buildings.' Was what crossed his mind, then 'people'. Hurrying now, Steve still struggled as he walked. His limbs had lost feeling, his body had begun growing stiff and he couldn't stop shivering.

Struggling the last few hundred meters before finally reaching the first building Steve banged on the door.

"Hello! Anyone there! Let me in!" He repeated it a few times, but he could hear nothing. No footsteps, no shouting. Noting but the wind. Making a decision Steve tried opening the door. Unsurprised when it refused to open.

Closing his eyes Steve breathed deep, ignoring the cold slicing at his lungs, and backed up a few steps. Sprinting he threw himself forward, momentum and weight forcing the door open. Felling forward, unable to catch himself in time Steve groaned as he lay in a heap on the floor.

Staggering to his feet he closed the door again, glad he hadn't made it fall completely from its hinges. The difference was noticeable immediately, with the wind no longer having access to his skin. Rubbing at his arms Steve walked forward, looking for someone to help him or even to attack him. At this point meeting anyone would be welcome.

It didn't happen though. Steve found something that looked like a command center, a mess hall and barracks, the gymnasium, the armory and so on. But there were no people. The buildings were all interconnected though, and Steve found it a blessing to not be forced out into the cold again.

Stepping into the barracks he began looking for clothes. He found a few setts that fit, changing quickly out of his own uniform and into the thick trousers and shirts, layering with underpants, undershirt and an extra pair of socks.

Somehow he found an overcoat and gloves as well. Sitting down Steve contemplated looking for something to eat, but discarded the idea. He didn't have the energy for it now, instead he gathered as many blankets as he could find and burrowed down to sleep.

Steve slept, but it wasn't restful. His dreams full of gunfire, skulls laughing at him and the shock of ice water on his skin. The last, combined with the feeling of crashing bought him into the world of the waking once more, tumbling out of his nest of blankets.

Climbing to his feet and untangling from the last few blankets Steve appreciated the warmth now residing in his blood. Though the empty feeling in his stomach urged him to find food. Following instinct Steve ventured into the rest of the base again, still listening for the sound of footsteps.

However he was unable to find anyone just like last time.

Instead he found a bit of food. The kitchens weren't well stocked, but Steve managed to find enough c-rations to clobber together a meal. The pre-prepared food might not taste good but it was familiar.

The first can, the "M-unit" or "Meat-unit" was labeled "Chopped ham and eggs", the second the "B-unit" or "Bread-unit" was filled with 7 crackers and 2 chocolate discs. Steve had been fortunate to find a "D-unit" or "Desert-unit" of halved apricots as well.

Not too bad, certainly not after having had nothing to heat for days. The water pipes in the base didn't seem to be working however, so Steve had had to bring in snow from the outside and let it melt. There had been a few buckets around, but no cups. There had been a severe lack of cutlery as well, so he'd made do with his knife.

So…

Good news: Steve had clothes fit for the climate. He wasn't freezing at the moment. He had food (for now). There were bound to be maps around somewhere.

Bad news: Steve was alone at the base. There was no actual heating at the base. The food supply was limited. He had no idea where he was or how to get away from here.

Plan: Find a map. Find transport to the front (somewhere in Europe). Pack any and all rations possible. Find a commanding officer. Go win the war.

Easy.

An: Poor Steve. All alone in the artic. Yeah, it is hard to break the neck of something, but not impossible. And I figured "hey, isn't Steve supposed to have enhanced strength or something?" and so the bear-moment was worn. And well… he had to get a bit of course, as therefore he had to lose the compass. But I didn't want him to lose the picture of Peggy sooo… author's privilege: fixing the circumstances to fit the plot. Lol. :P

Now some of you are probably wondering "Where is Shield? Don't they notice these things?!" Never fear. Next chapter they will make their first appearance and (probably) so will Tony.

Also. What do I do about Steve's crazy metabolism? Like, he needs four times the amount of calories of a normal man. Does that mean he starves to death in one fourth the time? Or did the serum change that too?

For now, todelo and see you later! :D

2016-12-02


	3. Chapter 3

Before his time – later than you think

C3

 _Good news: Steve had clothes fit for the climate. He wasn't freezing at the moment. He had food (for now). There were bound to be maps around somewhere._

 _Bad news: Steve was alone at the base. There was no actual heating at the base. The food supply was limited. He had no idea where he was or how to get away from here._

 _Plan: Find a map. Find transport to the front (somewhere in Europe). Pack any and all rations possible. Find a commanding officer. Go win the war._

 _Easy._

"Sir. We have a report from Greenland. Apparently they have found some kind of aircraft." Coulson looked up from the computer screen.

"An aircraft?" The agent held out the report and Phil accepted it, leafing through it. "What model and country?"

"We don't know yet sir. It isn't a standard model, specialists are on their way as we speak."

"Who?"

"Agent Pennyworth and Agent Jenkins, sir." Coulson nodded, leafed through the report again.

"It's old?"

"Yes sir. The ones who found it said it appeared from under the ice." Coulson made a humming noise.

"Keep me updated."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed." The agent left.

Steve went over the base again, this time searching for clues and leads, papers or stray reports, anything really to know which direction he should go. He needed to know the date and how long he'd been gone as well, but that was less important than getting back. Anything he found would probably be a bit old anyway in a base that had been abandoned like this, but it was his best shot at the moment.

Finally he ended up in the control room again. Laying his finds at the large table there, lining up the things he could use and what he would need.

He had found a map, old, worn and stained, for sure, but then Steve had worked with worse. Not much worse, but enough that he was glad for it. It showed his current position, a small mark on place in what looked like a wasteland, but there was what looked like a village or small town to the south and a bit east.

Upernavik, where there seemed to be some kind of landing pad for planes and the like. Hopefully there would be some kind of transport and information there. It looked like it would take a few days to get to there, but it would be better than slowly starving to death where he was now. Besides he would not be able to help anyone by staying here.

Beside the map Steve's scavenging had garnered him a backpack that only needed minimal fixing, a second pair of socks, and a gun.

The gun only had one clip, but that was more than Steve had hoped for. Disassembling and putting it back together was a challenge, as it was a model Steve hadn't seen before, but that was ok. He'd worked with new or unusual models before and it had worked out alright.

Steve had to admit he was a bit disappointed that he hadn't found any papers, any information was valuable at this point, but he would make do until he reached the town.

The chain from the ship went into the bag, as did the map and all the food that would fit. He had to leave a small amount of the stuff so he left what would make it the longest without going bad. He never knew if someone else would need it. Finally he stuffed a blanket into the bag, making it hard to close, but the blanket would be needed outside the base. For sleeping on and bandages in a worst-case scenario.

Checking his equipment again Steve prepared to leave again shield strapped tightly to his arm, as he didn't want to place it under the bag or the coat where he wouldn't be able to use it. While it hadn't helped much with the bear, it had proven its worth many times in battle. So if anyone tried shooting at him he would be prepared.

The gun went into his belt, holstered at his right side and ready for use. The knife went into the left boot. Taking a deep breath, Steve rolled his shoulders and looked round the room one last time. He nodded to himself and left. The war would wait for no man.

"So what do you think we'll find?" Agent Anton Jenkins asked his partner.

"Some plane from Sweden or something."

"But why would it be here? Don't you think it'll be a plane out on a special op? An undercover mission to save the world? Oh! I know, experimental warfare. Robotics! Nano-fiber and high-tech equipment! Or! OR! ALIENS! Nick! What if it's aliens?!"

"Calm down Jenkins. It's probably just a plane that got of course. …and it's Nickolas"

"Really, you think so? But it's not a standard model. Not even close from the report."

"Probably just a new model. You know the crowd never know their stuff."

"…But that's so boring and it was supposed to be old."

"Yeah? How many times have we done this before?"

"…Thirty-seven."

"And how many times was it a new or unusual model?"

"…Thirty-seven."

"So the chance of it being something unknown is really, really low. I say we get to it, have a look, confirm the model and get back in time for dinner."

"Fine. But the age!"

"Probably just from a test flight or something."

"But-"

"Sirs?" A voice interrupted. "We're here."

"Thank you." Jenkins smiled at the man while Nickolas Pennyworth just nodded and got out of the Snowmobile, a tracked vehicle developed for transport in climates with deep snow. This one was dual tracked and could carry up to seven people, two at the front and five in the back.

Climbing out after Pennyworth, or Nickolas to a lucky few, Anton Jenkins made faces at his partners back. The wind was like a hit in the face when he stepped out, howling and throwing snow around. Veils of snow was lifted by the wind here and there, moving the snow around and making it hard to distinguish the shape of their surroundings.

"Well. If there is one thing I didn't miss, it is the darn cold."

"Don't be a pussy, its only just below thirty."

"Celsius! And I'm from England! Thirteen below is plenty, thank you very much." Jenkins could almost hear Nick rolling his eyes.

"…right." He shook his head." Let's just get it over with, shall we?"

"How long has she been up?" Jenkins turned to the guide.

"We found her this morning, couldn't have been long though. A week at the most."

"A week… isn't that, a bit long for no one to find a plane?"

"Not out here. There isn't exactly a lot of people around, less people who goes on tripps for the fun of it."

"Where is she then?" Jenkins couldn't see anything but the snow in the air and dumped in piles.

"Right this way." They were shown around one of the snow piles, only to realize it was a shipwreck halfway cowered in snow. There were obvious holes where the ship had been damaged and pieces were missing. Other places where the metal had been partly crushed or deformed.

"…"

"…" Pennyworth paged his com. "Sir. You might want to take a look at this."

The landscape was purely ice and snow as Steve walked. Sometimes the snow was packed and hard, making it possible for him to walk on top of it. Other times it would turn soft and he'd fall through the top layer and end up with his legs encased in it.

It took a long time to walk even a short distance. The sun sank below the horizon again as Steve walked. There were ridges in some places, deep chasms where he had to jump across else they force him to go around.

One of these were too wide where he came to it. He walked along it finally finding a part where the ice walls were close enough for him to jump across. Taking the knife in one hand and fastening the chain in the handle. Backing up and running Steve planted his foot a feet from the edge and pushed himself into the air.

Upper body landing on the flat of the ice and lower body hanging in the air Steve sank the knife into the ice. His right hand tried to find purchase to drag himself up. Rolling onto his back Steve took a moment to just breathe.

The stars were so much brighter here than they had ever been in Brooklyn, but as bright as they were the bands of purple and green swishing across the sky was what really caught his eyes.

Grabbing the bag Steve brought out the blanked and curled it around him, the soft material forming a barrier between him and the cold, hindering the ice from cooling him down too much. Eyes on the magnificent display he slowly fell asleep.

"What can you tell me, Jenkins, Pennyworth?" The senior agent gestured for them to have a seat. Jenkins threw himself down in the closest one.

"It's not a standard model, sir" Nickolas began, taking the other seat.

"Could be alien for all we know!" Jenkins smiled around his cookie, causing Nickolas to sigh.

"It really couldn't. The materials are all from earth from what we can tell, the-"

"But not the designs. They aren't like any other plane designs I've seen."

"I know, Jenkins, I was getting to that."

"You always take too long Nick." Nickolas just sighed and began anew. He'd done this to many times to not know where to stop arguing.

"As we were saying: the designs are of unknown origin, but the material is all from earth. The front of the ship has sustained heavy damage. Interestingly enough it seems the back end of the plane has suffered a lot of damage as well, but from our calculations it should not have been enough to take it out of the sky." Jenkins looked up from the cookie-plate.

"Tell him about the power source." Agent summers raised an eyebrow and Nickolas sighed again.

"The metal surrounding the plane has been sutured in some kind of energy, we tried determining where the energy had originated and found that the source must have been in the inner parts of the plane. It deviates from any and every human power source we know of. We also determined that it must have been shot down very recently-"

"Which it can't have been as it was under the ice." Jenkins broke in.

"So we tried gauging the how fast the parts lost saturation. The larger the pieces, the longer it took. At an estimate the plane has been down for thirty to a ninety years. It depends on how sutured the metal was. Ninety years for one hundred percent and thirty years for a minimum of thirty-two percent saturation, give or take twenty years."

"That is not a very close estimate."

"No." Nickolas shrugged. "We need more data to get a closer estimate, so-"

"So we want to enter the ship." Jenkins had put down the plate and was staring right at their handler.

An: Yay! Finally. This has been sitting half-finished on my laptop since I posted the last chapter. 8I Feels good to be done.

On another note I realized I put "winter of 39-40" in the last chapter. Problem is: Amerika didn't join the war until 1942 and Steve didn't enter until June 14 1943! So I fixed it. It says 43-44 now, sadly (not really) that winter wasn't as bad as the one 39-40. So the coldest it went that year was -17 C.

In 1939-40 it went down to -23 C (-10 F) which is a lot colder. Oh well.

Source for weather:

. /learning/library/archive-hidden-treasures/monthly-weather-report

2017-01-22 00:57


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